


Bathtime with Beast

by Butterynutjob



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Canon Disabled Character, Knotting, M/M, PWP, Post-DOFP, Rimming, Smut, not a/b/o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4618866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank just wanted to help Charles get rid of his headache...with his cock. </p><p>Charles got a little more than he expected, in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bathtime with Beast

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt: Charles keeps getting these terrible headaches now that his telepathy has come back. Hank has taken to giving him shoulder/neck/head massages to help. They help a bit, but not enough especially as the headaches get worse and worse. Reading that warm baths with bath oils can help soothe, he draws Charles a bath and gives sits on the floor next to him rubbing his temples while Charles relaxes in the water. It helps but not for long. Then Hank reads that sexual release can end a headache...

After the events in D.C., Charles couldn’t quite bring himself to quit the serum cold-turkey. He tried to take just a little, more to muffle his telepathy than for the sake of his legs; he never took enough that he could actually walk. He wanted his telepathy muffled because the new housing development on the other side of Westchester was just within the range of Charles telepathy and without the serum, it felt sometimes like itching or tickling to be just barely able to feel people’s thoughts but not be close enough to feel the outline of them. The occasional sharp pangs when someone far away was suffering emotional distress were distressing enough for Charles to take just a bit of the serum everyday, so that the only mind he felt was the familiar, quiet, ordered and considerate mind of his friend (and de facto caretaker) Hank. 

The tiny amount of the serum he was taking had two major side effects: it did give him some feeling below the waist, and Charles had tried masturbating a couple times, but he could not get his penis erect. He let go of the idea with a weary resignation. Thanks to what Logan had showed him, Charles knew he was going to live a long life, but oddly enough that knowledge seemed to sap him of ambition rather than fill him with it. He very slowly made progress towards his goal of opening the school again, but he certainly didn’t have the fire in him about it that he once did.

The other major side effect was headaches. The headaches were rarely painful enough for Charles to be willing to give up the serum, but they were constant and therefore annoying. One day after he’d been on the low-dose regimen for a couple weeks, he mentioned the headaches to Hank and immediately wished he hadn’t because Hank was filled with guilt. Charles could feel Hank’s determination to finding a solution. 

“It’s alright,” Charles said with a smile that he hoped wasn’t as weary-looking as it felt. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with, Hank.”

“If you say so, Charles,” Hank said dubiously, but Charles could tell he was sure he was to blame (Hank had developed the serum, after all) and was already considering ways to make Charles feel better. 

It was sweet, really. Hank was stubborn in his loyalty and admiration of Charles; he had stayed when everyone else had left. Charles felt guilty, sometimes, especially for the dark days when he’d been drinking and had several times yelled at Hank simply because Hank was the only outlet he’d had. But Hank’s regard also kept Charles going on days when he’d rather do nothing. He also knew that Hank thought that without Charles, he’d have nothing. He didn’t ever voice that thought, but Charles addressed it nevertheless, frequently telling Hank that it wasn’t true; Hank was educated and intelligent and handsome and young. Hank would just smile and change the subject, the word ‘handsome’ sticking like a thorn in his brain. 

**

It was a week after Charles mentioned the headaches that Hank approached him with determination. “I’ve done a lot of research over the past week,” he told Charles. “I may be able to adapt the serum, but it will take some time. However, there are several suggested, ah, home remedies that should minimize your discomfort from the headaches.”

Hank was keeping something back from Charles mentally, something that he found a little scandalous and titillating but Charles couldn’t make out the shape of it without going deeper into Hank’s mind than he felt was polite. 

“Alright,” Charles said cautiously, intrigued despite himself. “What home remedies?”

“Well, uh, when was the last time you took a bath?”

Charles raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Hank. I took a shower this morning.”

“Um, no, I wasn’t—I mean an actual bath. They are supposed to be very relaxing and good for headaches.” 

“Ah,” Charles said. “Well, not in many years, to be completely honest. It’s a little difficult to manage.” He glanced at his wheelchair significantly.

“Yeah, I know...I thought I could help you.” Hank was blushing but was stubbornly sticking to his guns. And there was something else there, and energy Charles had only seen flickers of in Hank before. There was another thing he’d researched that was supposed to be good for headaches, too.

Charles hesitated, considering. As if he was playing a game of chess, he considered all the possible outcomes before deciding on a move. It might help his headache, it might not. Hank would be happy if he agreed. Hank might proposition him. Charles could reject the proposition, and Hank might feel so awkward that he would leave. Or Charles could accept, and Hank could feel so awkward after that he would leave. Hank might start wanting to have sex with him on a regular basis.

When he considered that Hank leaving would probably actually be better for Hank (possibly worse for Charles, but he still had his family’s money; he could always hire a servant or nurse if he had to), Charles realized that the potential benefits outweighed the potential drawbacks. 

Especially considering that one of the potential benefits was having sex with Hank on a regular basis. Charles would never have propositioned his friend, because of both their living situation and because he knew Hank self-identified as straight (even though he had thoughts about men sometimes), but he knew Hank to be curious and determined and kind and very interested in Charles’ comfort and happiness, and Charles imagined that those traits would counterbalance Hank’s lack of experience to make him an exceptional lover. The fact that Raven and Hank had some kind of physical relationship wasn’t even really a factor for Charles. After all, Erik had fucked Raven.

That thought was unwelcome and unexpected and it jolted Charles. He took a deep breath before focusing his thoughts on the situation at hand. It hadn’t escaped Charles’ notice that the gangly youth Charles had met eleven years ago had filled out into a very attractive man, even if Hank didn’t seem to realize that.

“Alright,” Charles said, lifting his eyes to Hank’s. Hank inhaled and his pupils widened a bit and Charles realized that Hank knew that he knew—and he found it arousing.  
Charles smiled, a little, but did not address their newfound mutual realization. Courtship was a dance, after all; a enjoyable dance and Charles intended to enjoy every moment of this...especially if this was the only time it would happen. 

**  
There was an old-fashioned, larger-than-average clawfoot tub in one of the downstairs bathrooms, off one of the guest rooms. Hank suggested the that tub and Charles readily agreed. Hank ran the bath while Charles got undressed, feeling slightly bemused by the idea now that it was happening. 

Charles wheeled up to the tub while Hank watched curiously. Hank knew better than to offer help if Charles hadn’t asked for it, but Charles could tell he was curious. Charles lifted each of his legs into the tub and then scooted forward until he could put his hands on the edge and then lowered himself in. 

Charles could feel the question in Hank’s mind and answered it. “Because getting out is much more difficult.”

Hank smiled and pulled the chair he’d brought into the room for the purpose next to the tub. “I’m going to massage your temples,” he informed Charles. 

“That sounds lovely,” Charles sighed, enjoying the feel of the almost-too-warm water on his body. He felt Hank’s hands tentatively touch his temples and rub small circles.

It really was helping his headache, Charles realized. The cumulative effect of the bath and the temple-rubbing was putting Charles in a hazy, cozy headspace where he wasn’t quite awake or asleep. Unfortunately that’s when his arms relaxed a little too much and he abruptly slipped down in the tub far enough that his chin was in the water.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were holding yourself up,” Hank said.

“I didn’t either,” Charles admitted. His arms had been resting on the tub’s edge and he hadn’t realized he’d been expending effort to keep them there. “I guess I was a little too relaxed.”

“If you want, I could—” Charles felt Hank’s arms snaking under his arms from behind and crossing in front of his chest. It brought Hank’s face to Charles’ left shoulder, nearly touching; an incredibly intimate position that couldn’t be very comfortable for Hank. 

But this close, Charles could feel his warmth and smell him; he smelled like musk and soap and it was intoxicating. But what was even better was observing how Hank felt about the closeness; he felt protective of Charles and surprised at how much he enjoyed the closeness. He was thinking about kissing Charles’ neck, wondering how that would be received. He shifted because his pants were getting tighter as he thought about what it would be like to kiss Charles, to touch his undeniably masculine chest. 

And he had no idea how to broach it. He didn’t know if his advances were welcome, and since he was sure Charles was reading his mind, he waited, allowing his imagination to roam...would Charles like teeth? Would Charles want to touch _him_? He imagined Charles splayed on top of him, legs askew, kissing his way down Hank’s chest—

“Yes,” Charles whispered. 

Hank wondered for a split second what Charles meant, but it registered soon after. To his chagrin, a tiny growl escaped his mouth as he leaned forward to run his lips against Charles’ shoulder.  
Hank hadn’t shaved, and the feel of his stubble brushing across Charles’ shoulder electrified Charles. “Yes,” he whispered again with more urgency. 

Hank bit at the junction of Charles’ neck and shoulder, and he immediately realized it was a little harder than he intended. But it seemed to be what Charles wanted, based on the burst of pleasure that he projected to Hank and the way he arched his back. 

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Charles murmured, turning his head to face Hank with his eyes closed. Hank took the cue and kissed him, almost viciously, which is not what he intended at all. A warning bell went off in Hank’s mind. 

When the kiss ended, Charles pulled back and looked at Hank through heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re blue,” he observed, the smallest pleased smile on his lips. Hank had not fully transitioned, but he was blue and the stubble Charles had thought he felt was actually Hank’s face fur starting to come out. 

The smile faded when he realized how mortified Hank was by the development. “I don’t mind,” Charles assured him, kissing him again. “I like you like this. I like you in whatever form you inhabit.”  
The words touched something deep inside Hank, filled a craving neither of them had been aware he’d had. Hank kissed Charles deeply again and the hands that had been resting on Charles’ chest started gently scratching there. 

Charles pulled away from the kiss. “Bite my neck again,” he gasped, and Hank was only to happy to do so, deep involuntary growls escaping his throat as he did. Charles watched Hank’s hands on his chest transform into paws with long, dull claws and he mentally expressed to Hank exactly how aroused he was to see that. 

(It crossed his mind to wonder if Erik would be proud of him for being attracted to someone’s mutation or jealous. He thought probably a bit of both)

“Need to get you somewhere else,” Hank growled, the timbre of his voice suddenly deeper as his vocal cords thickened along with the rest of him. 

“Fortunately there’s a bedroom right through that door,” Charles murmured, trying not to be too amused, since clearly Hank had planned that. 

Hank’s mind was harder to read when he was in his beast state, which is why Charles was surprised to find himself being bodily lifted out of the bathtub and carried, bridal-style, the few feet to the bed in the bedroom adjacent to the bathroom. 

Hank put him down on the bed—not roughly but not terribly gently, either—and then hesitated. “Oh—I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Charles.”

Charles waved it away. He generally didn’t want people carrying him, but Hank clearly had other things on his mind. “Come here.”

Hank was almost entirely transformed now. He climbed on top of Charles. “How’s your headache?” he asked, with a hint of teasing. 

“Mmm, still a little bit there,” Charles lied, smiling. “Perhaps if you kissed me, hmm, _here_ , it would go away.” Charles indicated his left nipple with no shame.

Hank grinned, an expression which would probably be terrifying to anyone who couldn’t feel the warm and steady pulse of Hank’s mind and intelligence behind the face of the beast. “Kiss?” Hank asked, leaning over to the nipple. He licked instead, revealing an impressively long and dextrous blue tongue.

“Jesus Christ,” Charles gasped, because not only did it feel amazing (ever since he’d been paralyzed his nipples had been incredibly sensitive) but he also immediately thought of what a tongue like that could do and just as immediately realized that Hank would probably find Charles’ desire...intimidating, at the very least.

However, Charles also realized that he didn’t know what other secrets Hank’s beast body might hold. “Why are you still dressed?” Charles asked cheekily, right before Hank swiped his long tongue over Charles’ other nipple, leaving Charles gasping and shuddering.

Self-consciousness about his body flashed from Hank, and Charles knew then that he had to get Hank out of his head. “Please, Hank? I want to see you.”

“Just see?” Hank teased and sat up on his knees next to Charles on the bed and pulled off the T-shirt he had been wearing. His chest was heavily muscled and covered with a fine blue fur. Charles reached out a hand to touch in fascination and scratched his fingers curiously over Hank’s nipples. Hank growled and the lump in his pants twitched.

“Allow me,” Charles said, unbuttoning Hank’s pants which were now so tight they had to be uncomfortable. “Why didn’t you wear sweatpants?” Charles asked idly, before his voice caught in his throat at the appearance of Hank’s blue cock. Charles had imagined it would be thick, but it was actually long but relatively thin.

“I didn’t want to be presumptuous,” Hank said, and Charles paused in his admiration of Hank’s newly-revealed cock to laugh at that thought.

“Hank, I’m a telepath,” he said, as Hank lay down on his back next to Charles so that he could wiggle out of his jeans the rest of the way. "I knew what you were thinking of when you proposed this." Hank had some trouble over his thick thighs, and Charles watched him struggle with his pants, with his lips twitching in amusement.

Once Hank had removed his pants, Charles grasped Hank’s shoulders and pulled himself most of the way on top of the beast, the way he’d seen Hank wanting earlier. His legs were to the side until Hank reached down to grab Charles’ thighs with his paws and position Charles on top of him.

Hank was breathing heavily and growling with nearly every breath. Charles bit at his neck, harder than he would normally bite, but he could tell the animal in Hank craved that. He pushed himself down Hank’s body and started licking at Hank’s blue cock. It was veiny and got thicker with every lick—and it was leaking quite a bit, far more liquid than Charles had known any other cock to leak pre-ejaculation.

Also, the haze in Hank’s mind was growing, but Charles could tell that the beast was battling the man. Hank was to go slowly and be careful and not expect to much.  
The beast wanted to fuck, hard and fast and viciously.

“Yes,” Charles gasped. “Fuck me, Hank. I want it. You don’t have to be careful with me.”

Hank’s eyes, now yellow, widened slightly. He tugged Charles up by his underarms and then effortlessly flipped them over so Charles was on his back. “Are you sure?” The beast’s voice rasped, even as he pushed Charles’ legs open and up, seeking the place where he wanted his cock to go.

Charles grabbed his own ankles. “Yes, dammit! Except—we’ll need lube.”

The beast merely growled, although it almost sounded like a purr. He licked a long stripe up Charles inner thigh, a question in his mind.

“Yes, for the thousandth time, yes,” Charles nearly shouted, and then he gasped as Hank’s tongue licked around his hole and then right on it, and then pressed inside.

Charles was moaning loudly, holding onto his ankles for dear life so that one of his lifeless legs wouldn’t flop out of his hands and hit Hank. He had a moment of gratitude that the tiny amount of serum he was taking meant he could feel this, even if his legs were lifeless. Hank’s tongue kept pushing in, farther than any human tongue would be able to go, and then it started writhing.

It felt amazing and Charles was vaguely aware that he was moaning loudly, his eyes closed and his head thrashing side to side. He could tenuously feel the scientific part of Hank’s brain experimenting: _What if it make it thicker? What if I undulate it?_ and Charles telepathically pressed his encouragement and pleasure to Hank, when abruptly Hank paused.

He was looking at...Charles saw what he was looking at and winced. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said, when he saw that Hank was looking at Charles’s flaccid penis. “Trust me, I am enjoying this very much.”

And that was all he had to say. Hank plunged in again, now seeing how far he could go, not concerned with anything but pleasing Charles. It was as arousing as what he was doing to Charles physically.

“I have to—I have to fuck you now,” Hank said, seeming surprised himself at the words and the urgency of his feeling.

Charles was going to mention lube again but Hank started pressing the head of his cock against Charles’ sphincter and Charles realized that he was quite wet with saliva already, and also Hank had smeared his copious amounts of precome all over his cock. And, the thickness of Hank’s cock was not unbearable. Hank pressed in and Charles had a flash of memory, of doing this before, with...someone else, and his body remembered how to relax and let the cock in.

The result was Hank pressed his entire cock inside in one smooth stroke. Charles gasped to feel himself filled so deeply, but the moment didn’t last long, because Hank immediately started pistoning his hips, hard and fast and shallowly.

It was almost too intense. Charles gripped his ankles so tightly that he was sure he would leave bruises. He could feel a part of Hank’s mind feeling helpless at the mercy of his body’s instincts, wanting to apologize to Charles but also afraid if he did that Charles would want him to stop

“Don’t stop,” Charles gasped, because something else was happening—Hank’s cock was swelling inside him, getting thicker on every thrust. It was somewhat painful, but also something about the swelling made Charles feel the almost-forgotten tightness that preceded orgasm building in his balls.

“Touch my cock,” he begged Hank. It was beginning to swell, a little, and Charles thought perhaps it didn’t have to be fully erect for him to come. Hank just gave him a blank look and his mind communicated the rest—he was intimidated, he had paws, what if he hurt Charles—

Unfortunately, Hank’s points were well-taken. “Hold my legs up then,” Charles panted, and when Hank went up in his knees to do that, Charles took his cock in hand himself, first spitting on his palm. “Don’t stop fucking me,” he pleaded.

Hank was pleased with the solution, Charles could tell, and he enjoyed watching Charles jerking himself. His pleasure was increasing until it tipped over the edge and Hank was coming, but it was more like coasting down a slope than an explosion of good feeling the way it had always been in the past. But worry began to seep in his mind. “Charles,” he said out loud. “I—can’t move much more. I think I’m stuck?”

“Just a little bit—” Charles gasped, and then he was coming, hard, and it was definitely more of the explosion variety. He let out groan so loud it was almost a yell, and then the pressure inside him was so intense that it definitely crossed the edge into painful.

“Hank,” he said with teeth gritted against the pain. “Can you pull out, please?”

“Actually, I don’t think I can,” Hank said, his voice full of wonder. “I think I’ve—knotted? This is fascinating!”

Charles groaned and tried to relax his sphincter enough that Hank could pull out. Hank tried backing up a bit but Charles yelled and Hank pushed in again. “I think it will go down in a bit, Charles.”

It wasn’t so bad, when Hank wasn’t actively trying to pull out. It felt kind of—cozy. “Okay,” Charles said, giving in. “Can we change positions, at least? My hips are sore from having my legs up.”

Hank looked thoughtful and moved Charles’ left leg across the front of his body so that Charles was on his side, his legs bent, Hank’s cock still tied in his ass, although he could twist it without too much difficulty. That position pulled a little too much at Charles’ hole though, and Charles was projecting his discomfort, so Hank rolled Charles onto his stomach. If he’d had to bear all Hank’s weight it would have been too much, but Hank held his upper body off Charles with his elbows. “Is this alright?”

It was actually kind of nice, Charles realized. He folded his arms and rested his head on them, looking to the side. “This is good. Thank you, Hank.”

“I had no idea this would happen,” Hank said earnestly. “I haven’t—well, since I started transitioning, there hasn’t been anyone. This doesn’t happen when i masturbate.” Charles could see clearly in his mind that Hank had only had sex twice in his life before, many years ago, both women...and neither was Raven.

It gave Charles a little more relief than he would like to admit.

“Charles,” Hank said, and suddenly there was a different tone to his voice, and an affectionate warmth in his mind that curled around his idea of Charles. “I wasn’t expecting—I mean, I had thought about—this, sort of, but I didn’t know that you—were okay—with me, um, doing this even though I was the beast.”

“Are you kidding? That was fucking hot,” Charles mumbled into his hands. Was he starting to drool? He was definitely starting to feel sleepy.

He was dragged back to full consciousness when he felt the intense burst of tenderness from Hank, that almost dichotomous sensation of passion and delicacy that Charles had known, once, and he closed his eyes and dreaded the words the moment before Hank said them. “I think...I love you, Charles.”

As Hank pressed a tender kiss into the back of Charles’ neck, Charles surreptitiously rubbed his forehead as his recently-vanquished headache started to return. He had predicted all the possible outcomes, he thought, but he hadn’t seen that coming.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Love Matters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111269) by [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris)




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